Some Enchanted Evening
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: At a celebration party in their honor for their upcoming wedding, Matthew and Mary sneak away and find romance, excitement, and desire. Canon, a little AU and heaping piles of fluff. Thank you to Julian Fellowes for these wonderful characters!
1. Chapter 1

London 1920 – Lady Rosamund Painswick's Home, Mayfair

Aunt Rosamund's reception hall was filled with a hundred or so formally dressed guests mingling and nibbling canapés. The sound of chatter, gentle laughter and the occasional pop of a champagne cork filled the room. Matthew stood in a cluster of men, some were his friends and some were friends of the Crawley family, discussing matters of Parliament and the war recovery in Europe. But his interest was a pretense, because the truth was he couldn't keep his eyes from looking at his fiancée, Mary, across the room, who was standing with a small circle of guests.

As he took a sip of whisky he looked at her over the rim of his glass. She wore a sleeveless beaded red evening gown, the one he liked best, which draped her body from her shoulders down to her glittery evening shoes. She wasn't wearing a corset, opting instead for some sort of slip, which he liked even more because he could see the subtle contours of her body; the shape of her breasts, the slender nip of her waist, and the discreet silhouette of her round bottom against the fabric around her back. He watched as she took a sip of champagne, her pink lips pressing against the edge of the crystal cocktail glass as the gold, French bubbles glistened against her mouth and slid over tongue and down her throat. He watched transfixed as she delicately sucked and swallowed a small sip, her tongue licking her lip to capture every glistening drop. He cleared his throat as it seemed everything she did these days had a different connotation to him, a suggestive interpretation of the secrets of her body. He couldn't help but slightly gulp the vintage spirits from his glass, hoping they would temporarily dampen the fire he felt building in his own body since their engagement three months earlier.

Following social custom and aristocratic etiquette, they hadn't really been alone. There had been a few stolen moments, an afternoon walk across the estate and a luncheon in the village. Otherwise, they had remained chaperoned at all times, which Matthew felt was unnecessary, considering their ages and the number of years they had known each other. Certainly they were not old, but they were not a young, university couple either. Day after day, and night after night, they said hello and goodbye with a peck on the cheek or a brief clasp of their hands. Matthew surmised it was the same way he greeted his own mother or Cousin Cora, the thought of which made his shirt collar tighten around his neck. Their chaste restraint felt stifling and childish. He let out a long breath at the very thought of it, almost as though he couldn't breathe, and took another long sip of whisky.

"Take a picture, Crawley, it lasts longer," a voice said teasingly followed by laughter from the men around him. Matthew's eyes and his attention snapped back to the moment and he smiled self- consciously as the hand of one of the men clapped his back in a jovial manner. It was Paul Townsend, his roommate from Cambridge. "It's alright, old man, we've all been there!" Matthew nodded his head and smiled slightly bashfully and chuckled in a self deprecating manner. But inside, he felt trapped, caged like an animal whose passion needled him. He suddenly found himself glancing around the room, looking for a door to escape through. _Air_, he thought…he needed air.

A white coated waiter appeared offering a silver tray with several whisky bottles and the group had another pour. One of the men piped up, reminiscing about his own engagement to his wife. As all the gentlemen turned their attention in enthrallment with the tale, Matthew quietly took several steps back, silently disappearing in the shuffle and flow of guests, as he discreetly made his way across the room, toward a far door. As he weaved in between people, he mumbled polite "excuse me's" and "I beg your pardon's" while guests smiled at him and patted his back.

Mary had never taken her eyes off him through the evening and looked up in time to see his blond head as he crossed the room and a sea of people, reaching the east corner doors. She smiled courteously to the guests she was mingling with and excused herself, heading in the direction of her fiancée.

~~OO~~

Safely alone in the hallway, Matthew touched a hand nervously to his white tie, a finger running inside his collar. He took deep breaths and then turned around as he heard someone behind him.

"Matthew? Is everything alright?" Mary asked quietly as she closed the door behind her. The beads on her dress made a soft rustling sound as she moved toward him. "Can I help with something?"

He laughed at the irony that the woman who caused his state of physical torment was offering him physical comfort. "No, no, thank you." He stuttered and forced a smile. "Everything is fine."

She looked up at him, noticing a few beads of perspiration around his brow and how formal he seemed. "Oh, dear, you look warm." Concern filled her voice as she reached a hand up and touched his forehead.

The feel of her soft fingers made his heart speed up faster than it already was. His eyes momentarily slid shut at the seductive feel of her skin against his. He reproached himself and reached up and grasped her hand. "Mary, please, stop!" He took a breath. "I'm perfectly fine, really." He said more sternly than he meant to.

Her hand jerked away. "Of course, I'm sorry…." She felt awkward as though his comment had been a rebuke.

He cursed himself. "No, wait." He closed his eyes again and shook his head, exhaling and reaching for her hand again. "I'm the one who's sorry for sounding so cross." A trace of a smile returned to his expression as he looked at her earnestly.

Mary cocked her head, unsure f his meaning. She glanced down and saw that he held her hand tenderly in his. "What is it?" She looked up in to his bright blue eyes as she whispered. "Please tell me."

"I'm not sure I can, or that I should." He took a breath, steeling himself. He laughed at how she rendered him speechless at times. He shrugged and spoke softly and sincerely. "Mary, from the moment I met you I wanted to be with you."

She smiled at what she interpreted as a sweet sentiment. "And now we are; together at last."

He stared at her from under his brow, his eyes growing dark as he spoke. "No, I don't mean engaged or married…." He let the words drift around between them, his eyes searching hers for understanding.

Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh…yes , well," her tongue was stumbling around her in her mouth. She felt like a school girl who didn't know what to say to a beau. She had secretly told him about the incident with Pamuk, but she and Matthew had never discussed intimate matters as it pertained to them.

His tone changed to a deep whisper. "I've embarrassed you. Please forgive me. It wasn't my intent."

She shook her head. "No, you haven't done anything of the sort. If anything I'm…."

He cut her off. "All of these years it's always been you. During my first years at Downton, and my ridiculous first proposal…"

She blinked up at him. "Now see here, it was nothing of the sort. I loved…"

"And then the war," he went on. "….wanting you and needing you. Seeing you but never being able to have you, aching to caress the mysteries of your body. Every night in my dreams it was you who was in my heart—and in my bed!" His words were nearly spat out as he gazed in to her brown eyes and reached a hand up to her cheek, his voice and his breathing ragged. "And since our engagement we're constantly surrounded by family or friends, and our parents." He laughed in exasperation. "Or a hundred people in the case of this party." They chuckled together as his eyes seemed to look through her. "All of whom I love, but when I look at you all I know is I want you so much the ache inside me is overwhelming." His voice dropped to a hush. "God, it's like a fever. And now here you are in a dress that basically leaves nothing to my imagination." He huffed out a laugh. "Sometimes I can't see straight at the thought of having you."

She was stunned and mesmerized by his confession. His words tumbled over her, causing her to suddenly see him differently. His eyes were dark with something she had never seen before—something smoldering, churning within him and only now could she see it and hear it in his voice…

Desire, love, need….all of it burning inside of him, yet contained by desperate restraint.

Mary put a hand to his cheek. "I feel it, too, Matthew. I always have." Her thumb grazed his lips tenderly teasing his mouth in to a smile. He stood only inches from her, their bodies nearly touching. "And you will have me… all of me."

The door suddenly opened and Matthew took a step back again. Several guests popped through, laughing and congratulating them. Mary smoothed her dress, politely annoyed, as they stood and waited for the revelers to leave. When they were alone again, Matthew shook his head and rubbed hand over his brow. "I'm sorry, Mary, but I can't do this for another two months; or another two weeks for that matter!" He looked at her earnestly. "I've been thinking. My old roommate, Paul, has mentioned a stag trip to Edinburgh; you know fishing and perhaps some shooting with a few other chaps from our class."

Mary's brow crinkled. "What? What do you mean a trip?"

He tried to reassure her. "It would only be for a month or so."

"A month or so!" She balked. "So I'm to be engaged without a fiancée?"

He chuckled. "I'd be back a few weeks before the wedding. Other bridegrooms do it. Robert took a two month sebbatical to Europe with his groomsmen before his wedding to Cora."

Mary fidgeted with the champagne glass she was still holding. "That was entirely different."

The pent up energy in his body and the frustration in his head were boiling over. "Well you're a woman, for God's sake—you wouldn't understand!" He sniffed in a slightly superior manner, putting a dot at the end of his remark.

"Excuse me? What do you mean I wouldn't understand?"

He reached in his jacket and pulled out a crisp white linen pocket square and pressed it against his forehead. "What I mean is women are like sexual camels."

Her mouth opened in surprise. "I beg your pardon!" She looked around and lowered her voice. "Are you calling me a camel?"

Amusement filled his eyes as he looked at her endearingly. "Of course not. What I'm trying to say is that women don't have the same physical impulses that overpower them the way men do. Women can cross vast deserts of temptation and starvation without being affected." He tucked his pocket square back in his breast pocket. "Men are designed differently, that's all."

"That's _all_?" She looked at him in amazement, realizing for the first time that he really didn't understand her own feelings or desire for him. "So you're saying that men have the monopoly on desire?"

"No, I'm saying that women's feelings don't torment their physical status the way they do for men."

Mary swirled the last splash of champagne in her glass. "And you think leaving is the solution?"

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing we're never alone." He said, a teasing tone returning to his disposition. "I don't think I can be held responsible for my actions."

She laughed in a sultry and thick way. "We're alone now aren't we?"

"Yes and your pa-pa would probably shoot me for it."

"Don't be silly. He's so ecstatic over the whole thing he probably wouldn't care of you dragged me off by my hair."

It was his turn to smile. "Don't tempt me, I might try it."

She felt a tingle in her abdomen that sent shivers through her body. "Be careful what you wish for, I just might let you." She set the champagne glass down and reached for one of his fingers, tugging him gently to follow her as she stepped around a secluded corner. She nudged him back up against the oak paneled wall, looking up in to his deep blue eyes and slid her hands up under his dinner jacket.

"You're not helping matters and you know it." He looked down in to her dark, sparkling eyes, falling in to their depths.

Mary leaned up on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I haven't done anything." She said, placing another kiss on his jaw as she leaned up against him, her arms sliding up around his neck.

Matthew's eyes slid closed at the feel of her hands, her lips, and her body pressing against him. He was a prisoner to her affection and her beauty, unable to resist. "Mary," he whispered almost inaudibly, "please…" His protest was silenced as her lips grazed over his, their breaths mingling as they brushed their mouths together. She tenderly nipped at his lip and a soft moan escaped him as he covered her mouth with his. His hands moved up to her hair, kissing her deeply, moaning again as she opened her mouth to let him take her.

One of Mary's hands slid up in to his hair, while the other caressed his ear, tracing a nimble fingertip over its shell and down to the lobe. His tongue swirled around hers, his body's only way of connecting with her, becoming one with her through their kiss. Her heart hammered in her chest and the tingle in her tummy returned as her mind raced with images of him as his hands smoothed down her neck and her back, pulling her up against him. His fingers gently stroked over her shoulder blades and down her spine, to the spot where her dress stopped and the swell of her bottom began.

She pulled away from their kiss and gasped for air. "Matthew…"

His breath hitched in his throat as he leaned his forehead against hers. "We should go back in. People will notice we're gone."

She looked up at him again. His eyes were almost black and his cheeks were flushed. "No they won't. They've all had champagne and whisky and are having an evening of it." And then it came to her-an idea. She chuckled quietly and lowered her voice and whispered against his mouth. "Let's steal away together for a while, just the two of us. An enchanted evening all to ourselves."

Her eyes glittered back at him in the dim light of the small hallway they stood in. He desperately wanted to be alone with her, but felt obliged to convention and her father's trust. "Our parents will notice were missing."

"Don't be silly. The last time I saw them they were floating on champagne bubbles." She stood back, their hands still clasped together. "There's a side door, just back here, that leads to the street."

He huffed out a laugh. "Now I know how Adam was tricked in to the Garden of Eden." He let her pull him, but followed hesitantly. He turned one of his arms and glanced at his wrist watch. "We must be back by midnight." He cautioned.

Mary nodded and smiled, pulling him more urgently by the hand as she led him around another corner and down a small staircase, which appeared to be a delivery entrance. Within seconds, Matthew was following Mary out a small door, and up a flight of cement stairs, depositing them on the breezy street in front of the house.

The cool evening air was a welcome relief from the heat of the house and their embrace. Matthew turned and looked back at the home, its windows glowing elegantly. He felt free and full of life and mischief. He laughed as he felt his arm being playfully pulled and looked back at her, smiling. "Alright then, we've escaped, and we have London at our feet. Where shall we go?"

She curled her hands around his elbow, tethering herself to him and leaned up to nuzzle his ear. "Let's go dancing."

* * *

**A/N** This ficlet will only be a few chapters long and is only intended as a piece of fluff for a warm summer's evening. More to come tomorrow. Thank you for reading friends! :)


	2. Chapter 2

The taxi they had found on a nearby Mayfair corner rolled up to the front door of a nightclub the cabbie mentioned. A neon light above the door announced its name, The Blue Dragon. The sounds of jazz wafted out on to the street, alluring passersby in to its doorway.

It reminded Matthew of a brothel as he looked up at it from the window of the cab. "I'm sure Carson will have no problem locating the dueling pistols Robert keeps in the library so he can shoot me."

"Don't be such a spoil sport!" Mary said excitedly, nudging him to get out. He opened the door, helped her out to the sidewalk and paid the driver.

Upon entering, strands of beads dangled from the ceiling in the doorway, bouncing in his face. Matthew rolled his eyes and used a hand to push them aside, allowing Mary to enter first. "This is a den of iniquity." He murmured in her ear.

A velvety chuckle trickled up from her. "I hope so." A waiter appeared and led them to a table where they sat and ordered port.

As they sat observing the club, Mary caught herself staring at Matthew. She loved his handsome features, and even the features that weren't. He looked up at her, realizing she was staring at him. "What is it?"

She laughed. "You don't really think this place is so bad, do you?"

He looked around over his shoulder and then back at her, his eyes filled with humor. "It does have a certain aura resembling Dante's circles."

"Oh? Which circle would that be?" She arched a brow. "Lust? Since that's what you were going on about earlier." She took a sip of the dark ruby port and glanced around the room.

"Very funny. Actually, it's quite engaging and I rather like the music, if you must know." He reached for his port. "But we must never let our children know we came here."

"Really? They would be the first people I'd tell." She joked, taking another sip of her drink.

He was now staring at her, which had become one of his favorite perks of being an engaged man— being able to look at her unapologetically and no longer needing to deny his love for her. "Is being a fiancée everything you'd thought it would be?" He mused in good spirits. "Escaping parties & running around London, and all that?"

She thought about it. "I don't think I like the title of fiancée as much as I would girlfriend."

He arched a brow in genuine curiosity. "But the word fiancé implies marriage and love, does it not?"

She shrugged. "Lots of people marry for plenty of reasons, so anyone can be called a fiancée. But the word girlfriend implies….romance and sweethearts. It's seems so much more intimate." She took another sip. "Did you have any girlfriends in Manchester or at university?"

He grinned bashfully at the memory. "Yes, of course, some lovely girls."

Mary liked that Matthew had such a normal background. She glanced down in to her glass. "As the daughter of an Earl, I've always been someone's fiancée; never a girlfriend."

He reached across the table. "Well, you're my girl and we came here to dance." He motioned toward the dance floor. "What about it?"

They danced to several jazz tunes, laughing at the dance steps of other dancers around them. Then the band began a slower song and Matthew held his arms out as he normally would to waltz. But Mary noticed the other couples dancing closer together, so she put one of her hands in his and wrapped her other arm around his shoulder, stepping up closer to him. They were only inches apart.

"Mary," he said a little breathlessly looking over his shoulder. "We're in public. This isn't exactly proper."

She looked up in to his eyes. "I don't think the Blue Dragon gives a fig about propriety." She followed as he moved them slowly and gracefully around the dance floor, her body swaying gently with his, their eyes gazing in to each other. His outstretched hand that held hers slowly moved inward and he tucked her hand between them, against his chest. Her feet seemed to magically follow his, as they slowly moved to the rhythm of the music, as though drifting on a cloud, oblivious to the people around them. Their bodies seemed so attuned to the other, as if they were meant to dance only with each other, her body fitting perfectly with his.

They moved effortlessly around the dance floor, floating to the music. Mary felt entranced, her insides buzzing from the closeness of their bodies and the heat from him radiating through to her soul. His hand that rested on her back gently pulled her closer, until her middle was pressed directly against his middle, and she could feel the outline of his body. She tried to say something, but was under a spell cast by his eyes, the way they looked at her…wanting to have her. She swallowed and began to speak but before she could his lips gingerly pressed against hers. Chastely, at first, a subtle kiss that was perfectly proper in public. But as she continued to sway against him, they held the kiss and he bent his head, kissing her like a lover…holding their embrace in front of everyone around them.

Suddenly Mary realized they weren't dancing any more. The sound of soft applause began from the crowd's appreciation toward the combo, but she and Matthew hadn't moved, suspended in time with each other. Finally, he stopped and looked in to her eyes. "I love you," he said in a voice that ached with sincerity and desire.

Mary reached up with a hand and her fingers brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. She realized she was breathing deeply and felt electricity pulsing through her veins. She ached for him as much as he did for her. "Come here," she whispered, "I want to show you something." Taking him by the hand, she led him off the dance floor and toward the beaded front entrance again.

"Dear God, Mary," he asked, chuckling. "Where are you taking us this time?" He saw the park across the street but had no idea where she was leading them.

"You'll see," she said over her shoulder. She wandered in to the park, which was, for all intents and purposes, deserted. She eyed a large, old oak tree and decided that was the perfect spot. She looked behind her and circled around to the other side, away from the street, and Matthew followed. From the street they were hidden from view.

She backed up against the large trunk of the tree and he stood facing her, catching his breath. "Alright, then; what's this all about?"

As she looked at him her breath was taken away by his beauty, his blond hair and blue eyes dusted in moonlight. "You said I wouldn't understand the desire you feel because I'm a woman, because we're designed differently."

He chuckled, his eyes glittering in the night light at her. "What? I don't understand." He was captivated by the depth of her brown eyes, moist with emotion and mirth. As she blinked at him he could see her long eyelashes flutter. All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She reached down for his hand. "I just want to clarify something."

He glanced down at her hand taking his. "…something?" He stood frozen like a statue.

"Yes," she nodded quietly as her hand guided his to her hip. "Something wonderful, that only happens when I'm with you, or near you, or just in the same room with you." She gently pulled her dress, slightly raising the material where a slit separated the long skirt. "Sometimes it happens just at the thought of you."

Matthew stared downward, entranced, never moving. Slowly the fabric of her gown parted, revealing a discreet view if her leg and thigh, the milky white skin glowing in the moonlight. "Mary, you don't have to…" His hand caressed her hip as he spoke.

"I know I don't have to," she paused. "That's what I'm trying to tell you." As the skirt moved, she guided his hand from her hip and over her thigh, and then under the material of the dress.

He let her slowly lead his hand, under the red organza and toward the warmth of her core. He put the palm of his free hand against the tree, bracing himself as his other hand disappeared under her dress. Slowly his hand found her soft curls, his fingers gently slipping over the sacred garden of her body which was wet and warm and wonderful. It took his breath away.

Mary's head fell back against the tree, her body pulsing with pleasure and joy. She looked down to see his arm, in his black dinner jacket, between her legs and heard the sound of his breathing, jagged and rough. She looked at him and caught his eyes, filled with desire and yearning. "See?" She whispered, panting her words softly, "The vast desert that was between us all those years, but like you, this was how I felt."

He touched his lips to hers as his fingers swirled around the sensitive, slick bud between her folds. Her neck arched and she quietly gasped against his mouth. He slid a finger, slowly and carefully, inside of her, wanting to feel and fill her, taunting her arousal. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck "Oh, Mary," he murmured against the tender skin of her throat, unable to finish his sentence. His tongue traced over her skin to her ear lobe and he could feel her shudder, her hands steadying herself on his arms …but he wanted to taste the essence that dripped over his fingers. He bent down slowly on one knee, a new kind of proposal he secretly mused, to worship her. His hands carefully moved the fabric of her dress aside. Her fingers went to his hair and she moaned at the feel of his mouth pressing kisses against her thigh and gently opening her.

The night air had only been filled with their murmurings and breaths, until an unexpected voice cut through their seclusion. "I say there! Who's there? Come out from behind that tree!"

Matthew froze, looking up at Mary who immediately began rearranging her dress and patting her hands to her hair. He quickly stood up and noticed tiny beads of perspiration on her forehead, so he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his pocket square. He dabbed it against her brow, noticing the flush in her cheeks and her neckline as she was catching her breath, making him smile. He patted the handkerchief against his lips, trying to appear presentable again. "Let me do all the talking." He said quietly. She nodded furiously, her expression fill with anticipation.

"I say, come out from behind that tree this instant!"

Matthew stepped out alone, facing a policeman in a black London patrol uniform and tall black helmet. "Good evening, Constable. I'm terribly sorry if we've been trespassing."

* * *

**A/N** Thank you all for reading and your kind reviews! I must share that the idea for this fun ficlet was not mine, but originated with two wonderful friends, Snowball4 and a Guest reader (you know who you are!) who I am profoundly grateful to for their lovely suggestion and thoughtful support. :) More tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

After hearing Matthew's voice, the Bobby cocked his head, squinting in the dark, finally seeing him step out from behind the tree. "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir." He said, straightening his posture and assessing Matthew's evening attire. "I thought it might be a few ruffians, sir, up to no good. Is there a problem I can assist you with?"

Matthew pressed his lips together. "No, thank you, I'm afraid it's all rather embarrassing." He held a hand out for Mary. She looked down at his hand and slid hers in to his, tentatively stepping out from behind the tree to join him by his side, their hands clasped down between them.

The Bobby looked surprised. "Oh, I see! Good evening, miss." He nodded his head in pleasant greeting.

"Good evening, constable." She replied in a deep, polite voice. Her heart was racing—London was not Downton village. If he had seen anything they would be arrested.

"You see," Matthew started, "I was accompanying my girlfriend back to her home in Mayfair and we stopped to enjoy the moonlight here in the park." He cleared his throat. "I suppose the moment got the better of us with a kiss, which is entirely my fault. I'm afraid we're guilty as charged." He shrugged and let the confession drift in the night air. Mary smiled and beamed at the sound of being introduced as his girlfriend.

The policeman nodded with an understanding grin. "I see sir. Well, a pretty lady like that, it's understandable that a night like this would make sweethearts feel romantic, as it were. But a nice couple like you should be careful in the park at this time of night, if you don't mind my saying so, sir. Since the armistice we've seen a rise in theft."

"Yes, yes, I know there have been problems." Matthew ran a hand over his hair. "I'm a lawyer and have been abreast of such activities."

"Why don't you let me help you hail a taxi, sir?" And with that the Bobby turned and walked toward the street, with Matthew and Mary in tow, their hands tightly clasped. The Constable stepped out in to the road, blew his whistle and held an arm up in the air, waving down a cab he spied at the Blue Dragon. The black car pulled around and stopped in front of them. "Here you are sir!" He announced efficiently, opening the door for them like a military aid.

"Thank you, Constable," Matthew said with genuine appreciation, shaking the constable's hand. "We're in your debt."

"Not at all sir." He leaned closer to Matthew and whispered discreetly. "It will be our little secret, sir."

~~00~~

As the taxi sped toward Mayfair, Matthew let out an exasperated sigh and looked over at Mary. She sat beside him, holding a hand up to her mouth trying to muffle her laughter. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come now, Matthew, admit it. It was fun." She was composing herself, dabbing at tears of laughter from her eyes.

"We could have been caught!"

She tipped her head and regarded him. His honor and uprightness were things she loved about him, but she also liked to tease him. "But we weren't," she said softly, leaning back beside him, their shoulders touching. "And he called us sweethearts! Aside from the policeman, it was rather wonderful, don't you think?"

He looked at her from the side of his eyes. Her expression was bright and filled with excitement and devotion. He fell in love with her all over again. "My heart wasn't beating this fast when I was lost behind enemy lines!" He lowered his voice to a hush and leaned toward her. "But in the future I think we should keep our romantic exploits to more private locations, wouldn't you agree?"

She noticed his hand resting on his thigh and reached out and slowly slid her fingers through his. He smiled at her and raised their clasped hands, and kissed the back of her hand, his lips barely brushing her skin, as though a butterfly had just fluttered over it. Her tingles returned. "I think I might know of such a private location."

"Oh?" He glanced at his wrist watch and then back at her. "It's nine thirty."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Plenty of time."

~~00~~

Walking up the front steps, Matthew looked up at the large white house. "Whose home is this?"

Mary lifted up the dust mat and pulled a key from underneath it. "This is Grantham House. Granny and my grandfather, the sixth Earl, used it as their London residence." She stuck the key in the door, which opened easily. "But when my grandfather died, Granny spent less time here and eventually moved her things out altogether. It's been vacant ever since. Aunt Rosamund lives just down the street, but this home stayed empty.""

"What a shame." Walking in to the large foyer, Matthew looked up at the high ceilings. "It's quite beautiful." Except for dust and remnants of piecemeal furniture, the old home was inviting.

"I agree," she said, her hands clasped behind her. "I'm glad you like it because I thought perhaps we could use it for our London address."

"London address?" His brows arched in question. "Why would we need a London address?"

She blinked in confusion. "Why wouldn't we?" She reached for one of his hands and led the way again. "Come here, let me show you something."

He followed her up the staircase, which wound up around several floors. Sheets were draped over huge oil paintings, of previous Earls, he presumed, feeling suddenly melancholy at the thought that his own image would one day hang on a wall in an elaborate frame collecting dust."Mary?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to apologize for my childish conduct earlier this evening. Of course I'm not leaving for a month in Scotland." He sighed as he continued climbing the stairs behind her.

On the second floor landing, she stopped and looked at him. "I'm the one who should apologize. I let my modestly overrule my feelings and reacted like a school girl instead of a woman. You're a grown man and we're both adults and it's perfectly reasonable to have a private chat about our married life." She squeezed his hand. "Now follow me!"

They walked down the hall to a corner room and walked inside, Mary clicked on the light, and suddenly the room was bathed in amber, revealing an exquisitely decorated bedroom appointed with modern and antique furniture, new drapes and wallpaper, vases of fresh flowers, and a large four poster bed with a cream duvet.

Matthew looked around in admiration, but what caught his attention the most was the small secretary in the corner. His eyes popped open in surprise. "My father's writing desk!" A smile filled his face and the tone of his voice as he stepped over to the small desk, looking it over like an old friend. "When did you do this?"

"Anna helped me, and your mother." She ran a fingertip along the edge of the secretary. "I wanted to talk with you about the house and thought bringing one of the rooms to life might help my case. And including some things from your family home would help make the old place ours, together." She had an expression of joy and smug satisfaction at being able to surprise him. "I was planning to surprise you tomorrow, but now is as good a time as any."

"My father kept this in his dressing room for late night work or keeping a few things handy." Matthew reached and opened one of the small drawers of the desk, revealing several sheets of his father's personalized stationary and monogrammed pens.

"I left everything just as it was, except that it's had a good polish."

He gingerly touched a finger to the items, momentarily lost in memory. He looked at her, his eyes filled with emotion and gratitude. "Thank you, Mary."

She didn't like sentimentality because it made her feel vulnerable, but she liked his sentimentality and couldn't help showing it. "I'm so glad. I hoped you would." Her appreciation reflected in her eyes. "So what do you think?"

He slowly closed the drawer. "I don't know what to say. I'm flattered and I'm touched, and your argument about the house is quite persuasive." He chuckled. "You could have been a lawyer."

"Well," she began, "I thought re-doing one of the rooms would help my case."

His eyes looked around the room and then back at her. "And not just any room," he observed with an arched brow, "but the master bed suite."

"Isn't that the room where the best negotiations are made?" She replied coyly, her hands still behind her back. "Gifts exchanged, promises made?" She eyed him playfully, never moving as he approached her.

He slipped his hands in to hers. "You feel it's important to have a London residence?"

"You mentioned that you wanted us to have a home of our own, and since we're obliged to live at Downton I thought this would be a lovely place to call our own. And I think that's important."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "It is lovely, just as you are."

She purred as he kissed her. "And it would offer some privacy we won't otherwise have." Her eyes closed as he trailed soft kisses from her cheek to her lips. "A place all to ourselves...where we could be alone."

"Just the two of us." He whispered against her lips.

"Yes…" Her head seemed to float on her neck as his mouth brushed over hers, placing kisses on her chin, cheeks and the tip of her nose. "…just the two of us." Her hands smoothed up his chest and under his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders until it slipped down his arms and on to the floor.

He felt his whole body respond to her as he kissed her jaw and her ear, his teeth tenderly nipping at her ear lobe. "No one else…" His arms went around her, his hands exploring her as he embraced her.

She whimpered at the sensation of his mouth and the feel is his hands. "No one else," she uttered as her fingers tugged at his white tie, loosening it until joined his jacket on the floor. His desire fueled her own, and some sort of electric charge seemed to course through her veins at the feel of his hands, his mouth, and his body pressing against her.

Matthew's lips followed her neckline, kissing her down over her delicate collar bones to where the vale of her décolletage began. His hands cupped her breasts through her dress, his tongue lapping at her flesh. He felt her shiver in his arms and a moan caught in his throat.

She pulled at the straps of her dress until they fell down her arms and the dress tumbled to the floor. The satin slip underneath was black and in the amber light revealed the swells and curves of her figure. His mouth found hers again in a passionate kiss, lips and teeth and tongues, tangled and devouring, gulping for air but not wanting to break apart.

As his hands moved over her body, caressing her through the satin, she pulled at his shirt until the gold studs popped off and bounced on to the floor. He reached for her hair, wanting to pull the combs free, but her hand stopped him. "You must leave my hair in place."

"I'm so sorry," he panted, his mind detached and drugged from arousal. "I didn't mean…"

"No," she interrupted, "I want you to, but I can't return to Aunt Rosamund's with my hair down." She leaned back in to him and kissed his neck as her hands pushed his shirt over his shoulders.

"Mary," he whispered, "if we don't stop…I won't be able to." He said apologetically.

She placed tender erotic kisses around his mouth. "I don't want you to stop." Her tongue licked and teased his lips, eliciting a moan from him. Her heart and emotions swirled around her. "I can't wait another two seconds, let alone another two months, to have you inside of me." She glanced up at him playfully. "Perhaps I should take a trip to Scotland?"

He huffed out a laugh but his heart nearly stopped at the sound of her admission. He paused and looked at her, seeing her eyelids heavy with arousal and need. As he held her gaze, he slowly unfastened the buttons of his trousers, pushing them open. "Let me show you what you do to me." He whispered tenderly as he hesitantly guided her hand inside his clothing, until her fingers found him hard and hot. She touched him tentatively at first, and then stroked her hand up his length and then down, slowly wrapping her fingers around him, feeling him pulse in her hand.

Mary stepped from their embrace and sat down on the bed, reclining back on the duvet, her hands reaching out to him. He unbuckled her shoes and dropped them to the floor, rubbing her feet with his hands. One of his fingertips touch the hem of her slip and began carefully sliding it up her legs, his hands smoothing over her knees and thighs, kissing the inside of her leg until his mouth found her, wet and warm. His tongue slipped between her folds, and around her swollen flesh. Her hands clenched in his hair. "Matthew…." Her voice pleaded. He continued kissing and worshipping her center, her soft moans filling the room and her body squirming and arching to his ministrations. He gently slid several fingers in to her depths, still kissing and piquing her arousal. "Matthew, please…" she breathed more urgently, one hand in his hair and the other fisted in the duvet.

When he leaned up to move he realized she had pulled her slip off, revealing the rest of her body, which was flush with desire. Her breasts heaved as she panted for air, their tips dark and stiff. He bent his head and tenderly sucked on in to his mouth, his hand still moving between her legs. Her head arched in to the duvet, rolling back and forth, her sanity drifting in and out as she moaned incoherently. "God, Matthew….I need you so much." Her hands pulled at his hair.

He chuckled softly against her skin as he quickly pulled off most of his clothing. He was trying to remove his underwear, but couldn't think straight, his hands fumbling with the cotton and buttons. She reached out and grabbed him jerking him down on top of her. He kissed her hungrily, all remaining control and hesitation slipping away as she wrapped a leg around his hip and he slid his body up against hers, slowly sliding and sinking inside of her.

He moved in long slow movements until he found the rhythm of her body. They moved together as they had on the dance floor, fitting perfectly, two halves making a whole, as though they were made to be only with each other. He led her body and she followed, the music of their soft cries and erotic whispers swirled all around them, the tempo speeding up and then slowing down…over and over again until she cried out and shattered, vibrations from her body causing him to gasp and cry out.

His own passion driven to the breaking point, he braced his arms beside her head, pounding in to her, desperate to let go but wanting to hold on. The last threads of his sanity slipping away, spinning out of control, his mind and heart flooded with ecstasy. "I can't...Oh God…"

Her hand slid down between them, caressing and taunting him, as she licked a drop of perspiration from his neck. He panted breathlessly at the feel of her, the tremors in his body, convulsing and crashing, and the sounds of his own sobs breaking free…within her and all around her. And then falling over a cliff, crying out, all the way down, over and over and over…ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy.

~~00~~

Mary's eyes blinked open, realizing they had fallen asleep. They were underneath the duvet and Matthew was asleep next to her, his hair tousled. She glanced at the clock on the night stand, which announced it was a quarter till midnight.

She ran a hand over his torso, lovingly massaging him back to life. She peppered gentle kisses over his chest and up his neck. He stirred, mumbling something and stretching, and softly moaning at the feel of her wake up call. She smiled watching him.

"What time is it?" He asked quietly, his voice sleepy and sated. He curled an arm around her and pulled her closer.

She rested her cheek against his chest. "Almost midnight. We're turning in to pumpkins."

He grinned, his eyes drowsy slits. "Everything alright?" His question asking much more then it's seemingly innocent inquiry.

She nodded against him. "Yes." She reached her free hand up and brushed his hair from his forehead. "So what do you think of my proposal about the house?"

He grinned wider and let out a laugh. "You've made a very compelling argument." One of his fingers slid a strand of hair from her cheek. "Your negotiation skills are without peer. I agree we must take the house."

"I'm so glad." She chuckled. "And I've been thinking about your Scottish contingent. I think you should go."

"What?" His eyes filled with concern. He searched her expression. "But that was…" He paused. "Is something wrong? Was this a mis…."

She shook her head reassuringly. "It has nothing to do with this. I've just been thinking that Ma-ma and I will be coming in to London for fittings and trousseau shopping and bridal teas, and I think it might be rather nice for you and your friends to take a jaunt together."

He blinked as he thought about it. "Well it doesn't have to be a whole month."

"I quite agree." She kissed his nose. "Besides I'd miss you too much." She hated her own sentimentality but couldn't contain it. Love and intimacy, she thought, would be her unraveling.

His brows went up in curiosity. "All of me?"

"Yes," she laughed, "All of you." Looking in to his brilliant blue eyes that blinked up at her so earnestly her eyes watered at his question, thinking back to the war and his injury and almost losing him. _A normal married life_…that's all he had wanted and would now have, the evidence of which she could still feel inside her.

He squeezed her hand. "I would miss you, and us, more than I can say."

Mary felt tears prick at her eyes. She patted his hand and turned away to get out of bed and hide her emotions. "Alright then, where the devil did we throw my slip?"

~~00~~

Dashing down the sidewalk together, they turned and quickly climbed the stairs up to Aunt Rosamund's front door. "What time is it?" Mary asked a little out of breath.

He glanced down at his wrist watch. "Quarter past twelve. Do you think they missed us?"

"The way the champagne was flowing? I doubt it," she mumbled as she gingerly turned the knob of the front door and peered inside. She tip-toed inside and he followed closely behind. They crept through the entryway and then found themselves in the foyer. "I think the coast is clear."

He smiled down at her. "It's getting late. I suppose we should call it a night."

"I suppose." She felt sad at having to say goodbye…there had been too may goodbyes between them. "Thank you for steeling away with me, and taking me to the night club and letting me show you the house." Her cheeks blushed.

He leaned toward her whispering, "Thank you for letting me run off with you. It's been such wonderful evening, I hate saying goodnight."

"I do, too." She shrugged pragmatically. "We have a luncheon with everyone tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes lightly exasperated. "Yes, another occasion where we'll be surrounded by onlookers."

Mary smirked. "They're not onlookers, they are our family and friends."

He smiled. "Even so, I'm glad we shared such an enchanted evening to ourselves."

He was cut off by another voice from across the room. "What enchanted evening?" Violet's voice caught them unaware.

They spun around to find her standing in the doorway of the drawing room, her hands perched on her cane. "Cousin Violet!" Matthew was stumbling over his words, trying to hide his surprise. "Er…Mary and I were just talking about what a lovely party it was this evening."

Mary nodded. "Yes, that's right. We were just discussing how enchanting it was!" She knew she didn't sound convincing.

Violet eyed them closely. "Really? My, my my….what a feat considering that you missed almost all of it."

Matthew looked startled. "What? Oh, no, well, um…."

"You see, Granny," Mary interrupted, "we happened to notice how beautiful the moon was so we stepped outside for a breath of fresh air."

Matthew nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, fresh air."

Violet glanced at the grandfather clock in the foyer. "For nearly four hours?"

Matthew finally seemed to find his voice again. "You see, it was quite a stretch of the legs and it was entirely my fault for keeping Mary out so late." He stopped there hoping the explanation would suffice, but doubted it.

Violet walked over to them, her gait steady and sure. She stopped directly in front of them and looked from one to the other. She eyed Matthew and her eyes were drawn to the collar of his shirt where she noticed pink lipstick. "How interesting, you have a smudge on your shirt the same shade as Mary's lip rouge."

"Do I?" He almost laughed but stopped to avoid sounding hysterical. Instead he touched a hand self consciously to his collar, slightly tugging at it. "We must have been jostled together when we were walking."

Violet tutted. "I've never been jostled during a walk, how does that work?"

Mary jumped in. "Well if you must know we went to a jazz club not too far from here and I suppose while were dancing someone bumped in to me and I must have gotten a little too close."

Violet stood listening. "I see." She let out a long sigh, not believing any of the explanations that were being conjured. "Jostling, bumping…so much activity it's a miracle you made it home in one piece." She nodded in thought and looked at them sideways. "I may have been born at night, my dears, but I was not born last night." And with that she turned and walked toward the downstairs guestrooms, disappearing around a long hallway.

Matthew sharing a knowing glance with Mary. "Crikey." He straightened his jacket and they both chuckled. "I should be going. Mother is already back at the Savoy and will be worried."

"Well, then" she said clasping her hands.

He looked in to her eyes, a smile on his face. "Usually, this is the part of the evening where a gentleman kisses his girlfriend. That is, if you're still my girlfriend?"

She smiled up at him coquettishly, swaying her hips a little. "Well, I believe I've already kissed you. Quite affectionately as I recall."

"You mean back at the house? Well, that doesn't count."

She was astonished. "What do you mean_ that_ doesn't count?"

"It wasn't a goodnight kiss…it was a prelude." His eyes sparkled flirtatiously as he licked his lips.

She laughed, watching his tongue moisten his lips, feeling tingles again…she was worn out already, what would happen once they were married? "You just made that up." She teased, trying to deflect her own feelings.

"Maybe," he whispered as he leaned toward her, his lips brushing her cheek. "Good night."

"Good night." She watched as he turned and walked toward the door and left. She already felt alone without him.

As he stepped out on the front stoop, he turned his collar up in the chilled air and hopped down the stairs, heading toward where the cars were parked.

"Matthew?"

He stopped at the sound of Mary's voice calling after him. "Yes?" He turned around and faced her, his hands in his pockets, smiling hopefully.

She hesitated, the words caught on her tongue. "Would you like to visit the house again tomorrow? After luncheon?" She cursed her sentimentality again. "We could make some plans for it."

He grinned. "I thought you'd never ask." He watched as she waved and went back inside. He headed back toward the cars, one of the chauffeurs opening a door for him.

"Good evening, Mr. Crawley."

"Good evening Wilson." He paused, thinking twice about getting in the car. "You know, I think I'll walk."

Wilson looked surprised. "Sir? The Savoy is at least eight blocks and this time of night it might be best to let me drive you."

He smiled appreciatively and patted the driver's back. "The moon is full and it's quite bright, and besides the walk is through nice neighborhoods. The walk will do me good."

As he walked toward the hotel he felt lighter than air, happy and free….and enchanted.

_**Fin!**_

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_**A/N **_Thank you for reading everyone! :) Happy summer!


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